


Spideypool Shenanigans

by lowkey_avenger



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Marvel - Freeform, The chapters don't go together, collection, it's a bunch of oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:57:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowkey_avenger/pseuds/lowkey_avenger
Summary: A nice collection of Spideypool one shots, based on requests I receive through tumblr. Varied in content, and they don't go in order/they're not related.Enjoy.





	1. Prompt 1

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr and send requests, my dudes!
> 
> (@lowkey-avenger)

(How about a first date prompt for Spideypool?)

 

Peter shifted his weight from foot to foot and checked his watch. Then he looked up and made sure he was at the right restaurant…again. He’d made sure to arrive slightly early (though not  _too_ early, because it’s  _Wade_ we’re talking about here) and now that he’d been standing outside the place for forty minutes, he was kind of wishing he hadn’t.

He debated calling Wade again. He had once, about fifteen minutes ago, but Wade hadn’t answered. It wasn’t terribly unusual for Wade to miss a couple calls. Peter just thought maybe Wade would have kept his phone on tonight.

Suddenly, two gloved hands covered Peter’s eyes, somehow not triggering his spidey-senses. “Guess who?”

Peter grinned. “Captain America.”

Wade responded with an enamored sigh. “If only. You and Cap dating?  _Imagine the ass possibilities.”_

Peter removed Wade’s hands from his face and turned around to face him, then found himself grinning even harder. Wade wasn’t wearing his mask. Sure, he was wearing a hoodie and gloves to cover everything else, but Peter could see his face. In  _public._

Wade noticed his staring. “See something you like?”

“Definitely.” Peter confirmed, and soon Wade had a grin to match his. “So, why this place?” he asked, gesturing at the building behind him. 

“Well,” Wade started, throwing an arm over Peter’s shoulders and turning them to face it, “for starters, it’s dark, which is always a plus. Second, I kinda totally saved the owner’s ass a while back, so he can’t kick us out. And we might get a discount.”

Peter leaned into him. “Sounds good. What kind of food is it?”

Wade shrugged, shaking them both. “No clue.”

Peter looked at him with amused confusion. “Dude, really?”

“Really. I got no fuckin’ clue.”

Peter just laughed. He wasn’t even surprised. “You really pulled out all the stops for a first date, huh?”

Wade’s expression faltered. “I mean–if you wanna go somewhere else–”

“No, no!” Peter shook his head. “I was kidding. This is like, rom-com level date material.”

“You sure?”

Peter nodded and grabbed Wade’s hand, pulling him towards the door. “Positive. C’mon, let’s go eat some mystery discount food.”

“That’s like, the best kind.” Wade pointed out, following.

“I know, right?” Peter agreed, opening the door and pulling Wade inside, letting him hide behind him, even if Wade had five inches (and like  _two tons of muscle_ ) on him. A friendly-looking hostess greeted them.

“Date night?” she asked, grabbing two menus.

“Yep. Table for two, please.”


	2. Prompt 2

(Prompt: Could you write a fic where Peter keeps finding boxes at their door because Wade won't stop ordering (mostly useless) stuff online? Bonus: Wade never remembers what he buys, or even ordering anything at all.)

 

Peter stared at the contents box and briefly considered setting it on fire. The first box–a Spider-man plushie–was funny. And honestly, he had been a little bit drunk a couple days before, so who knows, maybe he did order it.

He did not, however, order the Spider-man web-shooters for kids, the Spider-man poster, or any of the other seven things that had been sent to his doorstep.

He sure as fuck did not order a Spider-man thong. 

Which means, of course, that someone else has been ordering these things for him. The only problem is, he doesn’t know who, and he doesn’t know why. It could be MJ, though she usually doesn’t take things this far, and she’s been out of town for the last week and probably didn’t have time to order him his own memorabilia. It could be Tony, but honestly, it was more of a Tony thing to order them all for himself and then just start decorating with them.

He had done that, once, to Steve. It looked like America had puked on the Tower.

Unfortunately for Peter, that didn’t leave many options for culprits. He didn’t know many of the other Avengers very well, or at least not well enough for this. 

He glared at the stupid enigma thong for another minute before he turned away and went back to his bedroom to get ready for work. He quickly got dressed and was in the middle of brushing his teeth when his phone buzzed from his bed. He picked it up and just hoped it wasn’t Jameson.

It wasn’t. It was Wade, asking if Peter wanted to patrol with him tonight. Peter looked at the text and suddenly something clicked. 

Of course Wade Wilson would send me a Spider-man thong. WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE?

Peter really, really wished he could punch someone through the phone. Using his full force. He decided to settle for yelling at Wade and called him, rinsing out his mouth as it dialed.

“Is this my favorite Spidey calling?” Wade answered, then gasped. “Is this a booty call?!”

“Wade, I know it’s you who’s been sending me stupid Spider-man shit. Stop it.”

Wade paused. Wade Wilson paused. “What?” he asked, and Peter could feel his confusion in his tone.

If he was lying, he was good at it. “All the stuff? The plushie, the blanket, the web-shooters…the thing that came this morning?” Peter asked, lowering his voice at the end.

“I don’t think that was me, but now I really wanna know what came in this morning. Is it a dirty thing?”

Peter sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “It’s a Spider-man thong. Who else would have sent it to me?”

Wade squealed. “Can I maybe…have it?”

“Not a chance in hell. This is serious, Wade, there’s only like four people who know both my address and my alter ego.”

Wade hummed. He sounded distracted. “Uh huh, right.”

“Wade. Focus.”

Wade paused again. This was getting concerning. “Uh, Petey?”

He sounded guilty. “Yes, Wade?”

“So, turns out, I sent you a thong.”

“What?”

“I may or may not have immediately tried to find one on Amazon. Turns out I sent one two days ago. My bad.”

Peter could feel the beginnings of a headache. “You don’t remember? It was two days ago!”

“My memory isn’t the best, Spidey.”

Peter sighed. It really wasn’t Wade’s fault he couldn’t remember. “Look, it’s fine. Just, come get all of this stuff. The cardboard cutout is creepy.”

Wade got excited again. “Does this mean we can still hang out? Team Red isn’t dead?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes, we can still hang out. But I’m burning that thong."


	3. Prompt 3

(hi!! I saw you were taking some requests, so if you'd like maybe spideypool and fake engagement to sample cake?)

 

“PETEY!” Wade shouted, ripping back the shower curtain. Peter screamed and tried to cover himself. “Petey–Petey, stop screaming.”

“ _What are you doing in my shower?”_ Peter demanded, soap stinging his eyes.

Wade rolled his eyes. “You do know I’ve seen you naked, right?”

“That doesn’t mean you can just scare the shit out of me as you please, Wade.” Peter responded, closing the curtain between them again.

“Then what’s the point of dating?”

“When I know, I’ll get back to you.” Peter answered, then rinsed the rest of his hair out. “What do you want?”

There was a clink of porcelain as Wade lowered the toilet lid to sit on it. “What?”

“You did want something when you came in, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” Wade paused, then gasped. “OH!”

Peter laughed. Somehow, it never got old. “Yes?”

“Did you know that when people get married, they can go to cake tastings? Like, they can go into a room and literally eat as much cake as they want.”

Peter scrunched his eyebrows. He was slightly worried about where this was going. “Well, yeah. They can do it for food, too. It’s a whole thing. Weddings are complicated.”

“You can do it with  _food too?”_ Wade practically squealed.

Peter laughed. “Yes, you can. Are you going somewhere with this?”

“Huh? Oh, right! There’s a cake tasting today! We should go.”

Peter stuck his head out and squinted at Wade. “We’re not engaged.”

Wade casually waved a hand. “Pssh, that doesn’t matter. We’re dating. Close enough.”

“I don’t think it is, actually.” Peter said, turning off the water. “Hand me a towel.”

Wade did as he was told, then frowned when Peter wrapped it around his waist. Peter shoved him and walked back into their bedroom. Wade grumbled and followed. “Just  _once,_ could you be a streaker?”

“No. It’s cold.”

“Well,  _I_ could make you–”

“Cake, Wade?” Peter interrupted.

Wade glared, but accepted the subject change. “It’s at seven. Please?”

Peter sighed. It was only six; they could make it. “Got any fake rings?”

Wade squealed. “Really?”

“Sure. But you’re paying.”

Wade grinned so hard it looked like it hurt, then got dressed as fast as he possibly could, somehow even managing to get matching socks. Peter laughed and followed suit, even going as far to match Wade’s black hoodie with a red sweater. In a matter of minutes, they were out the door and headed off to a cake tasting, complete with two plastic engagement rings Wade had pulled from God-knows-where. 

When they walked in, Peter was only  _slightly_ surprised when it turned out to actually be a cake tasting. There were other couples waiting around, most doing their best to make small talk.

Peter grabbed Wade’s hand and leaned closer to him. “We’re actually at a cake tasting.”

Wade chuckled. “Well, yeah. It’s  _cake,_ babe. I’m not messing around.”

Peter grinned. “I almost feel guilty. We’re taking advantage of cake.”

Wade pointed in front of them. “But  _looky!”_

Peter looked, and suddenly, there were about twenty samples of cake being laid out on a table. He felt much less guilty. After all, the cake couldn’t feel anything. And it’s not like they were doing it for free. “Remind me to take a lap around New York after this.”

“No.”

Peter sighed. “This is how I get fat, isn’t it?”

Wade laughed and kissed his temple. “I’ll still like you.”

Peter smiled, all warm and fuzzy, then dragged Wade in the direction of the heavenly-smelling table. “Let’s go get fat together.”

And they did. Honestly, Peter couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had this much sugar. Or had this much fun with Wade, who was doodling with the icing Peter had scraped off of his raspberry-filled pound cake– _stop judging me for taking it off, you know I don’t like orange things–_ and trying to give the critics like Gordon Ramsay would.

“I’m like 80% sure that Ramsay wouldn’t approve of you mixing all of the icings into one pile then  _eating_ it.”

Wade stuck out a multi-colored tongue. “Then he sucks.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Which one was your favorite?”

Wade considered. “The one with the chocolate curls on top. It tasted like coffee.”

Peter scrunched his nose. “You like coffee cake? That’s so gross. Why am I dating you?”

“You’re the hot one, we have  _fuckin’ awesome_ sex, and I bought you cake.”

“True. But you enjoy icing atrocities and coffee cake and I just can’t deal with that at our wedding.”

Wade stopped and stared at him. “Our wedding?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “I mean–It’s not–that’s not what I meant. Wait, no, that’s wrong too.”

Wade tried not to smile, and failed. “I would sacrifice coffee cake for you.”

Peter smiled. “No guns either.”

Wade groaned. “But what if the aliens show up?”

“They show up, I’ll kick their asses myself.”

Wade grinned, but it was slightly…different. There was a pause as they both ate another bite of cake, chuckling when it happened in unison. “Hey, Petey.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked, mouth full of cake.

“Let’s get married.”

Peter choked on his cake. “What?”

“For realsies. I’ll even let you pick out the cake.”

Peter just stared at him. “Really?”

Wade nodded, and honestly he looked terrified. “Really.”

Peter paused for a moment. “Tony won’t like it.”

Wade tilted his head a little bit. “Tony can go fuck himself?” he tried, looking hopeful.

“Tony can go fuck himself.”

Wade grinned with enough force to blind the Sun. “Is–Is that a–”

“Yes, Wade. Like, a hundred million times yes.”

Wade let out a whoop and picked Peter up, spinning him around and kissing him hard. “Oh my god. This is awesome.”

“Wanna blow this joint and tell Tony and Steve?”

“Right now?”

“Rip off the band-aid. And it’s a free pass to be an asshat for a night.”

Wade kissed him again. “Fuck yeah. Let’s go ruin some Stony sexy times.”

Peter rolled his eyes as Wade put him down. He glanced at the door, then looked back at Wade. Then, he took off running for it. “Race you to the Tower!”

He heard Wade’s shout of anguish and took off, knowing that he would follow. This was probably the happiest he’d ever felt, and he had a feeling that it was going to last a  _while._

_Hell, it’ll probably last my whole life._


	4. Prompt 4

(Wade catches wind of some sort of threat to Peter but they don't know each other that well yet, so he's trying to deal with it "subtly")

 

“Wade. Stop getting distracted.”

Wade stopped scratching his ear and looked back at Spidey. “What?”

Spidey looked annoyed with him through his mask. “If you’re gonna follow me around, at least pay attention.”

Wade nodded. It was very serious.  _Muy serio. “_ Got it. You have one million percent of my focus.”

“Great.” Spidey said, just like someone who didn’t believe they had one million percent of Wade’s focus. “Let’s get moving.”

Wade clapped excitedly and earned another masked glare. He stopped and saluted him. “Focused.”

Spidey sighed and promptly jumped off of the roof they were on and swung nearly a block away. Wade groaned. After a moment, he picked a building, backed up, then ran at full speed and jumped over the gap.

He missed by about a foot and crashed down onto someone’s fire escape with an icky sound and an ouchie feeling in his hip. “Ow,” he muttered, then rolled over towards the window, which had its blinds open.

And there was a dude inside with a  _really big gun_ and a  _really cool camera._ Wade knocked on the window and waved. The dude looked over and looked surprised to see Wade there. That was understandable.

What was not understandable was aiming his awesome gun at  _Wade_ and  _firing,_ hitting him dead in the neck. Wade had to spend a good minute trying not to choke on his own blood while the dude gathered his stuff and bolted from the apartment. 

Suddenly, Spidey dropped down next to him and perched on the railing to the fire escape. “What’s taking you so–Wade? Are you okay?”

“Peachy!” Wade managed through lots of hacking and coughing. After a moment, he was healed enough to breathe properly. “I’m good. Great. Vocal cords have never been better.”

“What happened to you?”

“Nothin’. I swear!” he added when Spidey looked unconvinced. 

Spidey held out a hand. “Come on, then. Let’s go finish the patrol. Without blood, please.”

Wade grinned and accepted the hand, then followed Spidey into the night.

The patrol ended up being  _really_ boring. They stopped some robberies, saved Bea Arthur from getting hit by a car once, but that was  _it._ Wade had had more interesting nights on  _protection jobs._

“Alright, Wade, that’s enough for tonight. I’m going home.” Spidey said, preparing to launch of into the night.

Wade, however, was too busy looking at his butt in that  _spandex._ Because honestly, dat ass was just unfair. Maybe if Wade worked out enough–

Suddenly, Wade noticed a shiny thing just below Spidey’s lovely rear. Well, actually, it was on another fire escape a building away. It looked suspiciously like a gun.

Pointed at Spidey.

“Wade? Are you seriously not listening to me again?” Spidey demanded, trying to get Wade’s attention back.

Wade looked between Spidey and the suspicious gun a few times and debated what to do. On one hand, he had to save Spidey, but on the other hand, Spidey wouldn’t hang out with him anymore if he broke the no-touchy rule. 

And he really liked hanging out with Spidey, which meant he was gonna have to be  _sneaky_ about this.

“Hey, Spidey?”

Spidey did not look happy with him. “What, Wade?”

“Wanna go see what the basement of this building looks like?”

Spidey tilted his head at him. “What?”

“Or maybe explore some sewers? Or lie down flat on this roof and point out smog shapes?”

“Wade, what are you talking about?”

The gun wiggled, just a little bit. It was getting ready to shoot.  _I DON’T HAVE THE TIME TO BE SNEAKY. FUCK._

Hopefully, Spidey would have the instincts to not-die.

Wade ran at him and tackled him off the side of the building, effectively blocking the hitman’s view and sending them plummeting to the concrete. As he collided with Spidey’s torso, a shot rang out. Wade didn’t feel anything hit him; he just hoped it hadn’t hit Spidey.

After a moment of free-falling, Spidey shot a web and caught them both. He managed to only catch Wade by his foot. Wade looked up at him from his weird angle. “Did you by chance feel a bullet somewhere?”

“No!” Spidey sounded panicked. “What the fuck was that?”

Wade held his hands up–maybe down, he wasn’t sure–in defense. “I didn’t mean to break the rule!”

“Why didn’t you just tell me someone was trying to  _shoot me?”_

 _“_ Well, you were mad, and you don’t like when I talk, and–”

“You just saved my life.”

“Really?” Wade asked, wide-eyed.

Spidey nodded. “Yeah. Um–thank you, Wade.”

Wade grinned. “No problem, Spidey-poo. I only have one favor to ask in return.”

Spidey sighed. “Of course you do. What?”

“Would you mind releasing my foot from your wonderfully sticky trap?”

Spidey glared at him, then swung over and cut him down, sending him down to meet the concrete with a  _crunch. “I’m over it!”_ he shouted, swinging away into the night.

Wade didn’t even mind the six broken bones.


	5. Prompt 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bro... that's so... not cool..." as a prompt

Peter wasn’t a huge fan of being drunk. With his weirdly-powerful immune system and enhanced senses, he had to drink way more than most people just to feel a little bit buzzed and all it did was make him feel like he was underwater. Most of the time he only did it because the people around him were drunk, because being the only sober person in a room of drunk people is almost worse than being drunk.

Which is how he got here, sitting in the middle of Tony’s lab with the rest of the team scattered around him, nursing his ninth–or tenth, he wasn’t sure–beer and watching the rest of the team go about their drunken activities.

At the moment, that included watching Steve, Bucky, and Sam play Twister, Clint and Natasha seeing who could hit the most stuff with rubber bands, and watching Tony and Bruce argue over some project they were working on, but Tony was being an ass and only speaking broken French.

And to top it all off, Wade was sitting next to him, trying to convince Peter to let him borrow his web-shooters.

“C’mon, Petey, just for a little bit.”

Peter took another swig of beer and shook his head. “I’m drunk off my ass and I _still_ know that’s a bad idea.” he slurred, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie further down. Well, not his hoodie. Wade had let him borrow it earlier when Peter had complained about how cold Tony kept his lab.

Wade frowned. “Can you even get drunk?”

“It takes some effort.”

Wade made a face. “Explain.”

“I will when I’m sober. Gimme about two hours.”

“Really?” Wade asked, then made a sad attempt to grab at Peter’s wrist and got smacked. “How many beers have you even had?”

“Nine or ten. Not sure.” Peter shrugged.

“Dang, Spidey. Hopefully you’ve got good metabolism.”

Peter snorted and flipped him off, then downed the rest of his beer and tried to balance the empty bottle on Wade’s head. He failed, and it nearly crashed to the floor before Wade caught it and put it on a table. “Okay, so maybe you’re a little bit drunk.”

“For the record, my drunk isn’t the same as _that_ drunk,” Peter pointed out, nodding in the direction of the Twister trio, where Sam could barely manage to stay supported without wobbling. 

“How so?”

“Less shit gets impaired. Movement, balance, most decision making–just fine. I just get a little…slower.”

“So, if I were to ask you if I could touch your butt…” Wade trailed off, aiming grabby hands at him.

Peter smacked him away and only fell over a little bit. “ **Dude, that’s so…** _ **not cool**.” _ he slurred.

Wade laughed. “Fine, fine. But I will get there eventually.”

“No, you will not.”

“You’re wearing my hoodie. That’s like, a relationship _thing.”_

Peter flipped him off and snuggled further into the (admittedly very nice) hoodie. “Whatever. It’s only ‘cause it’s cold.”

“It’s not _that_ cold.”

Peter responded by sticking his tongue out at him. “Is too.”

Wade laughed and threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter pouted, but let it stay. They both stared off into the rest of the lab and watched the drunken Twister pile suddenly collapse into a heap of laughing bodies.

Then Wade was rather violently pulled from Peter’s side and replaced by Natasha. “Enough of that. What are we looking at?”

Peter laughed as Wade yelped at the sudden intrusion. “Twister failure. I’m like eighty percent sure Steve just fell face-first into Sam’s crotch.”

Nat nodded in approval. “Lovely–Wilson, off.” she scolded, batting at Wade who had tried to cuddle up to Peter’s other side.

“But we’re hoodie buddies!” Wade protested.

Nat raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I borrowed a hoodie. It was a mistake.”

“Ah. Want him off of you?”

“Nah, I’m good. He’s harmless.”

“He murders people for a living.”

“And he’s sitting right here.” Wade chimed in, not-very-sneakily stuffing himself under Peter’s arm, who huffed and lifted it for him.

Peter ignored him and turned back to Nat. “Correction: he’s harmless to me.”

“Right.” she said, obviously disapproving, “Well, if he needs his ass handed to him, find me.”

“Will do.” Peter smiled at her as she rose and went back to Clint.

Wade poked him in the shoulder. “She scares me.”

“She scares everyone.”

“True.” Wade admitted, then fell quiet.

Peter looked down at him. “You look mentally constipated. What’s wrong?”

“Did you mean what you said?” Wade blurted.

“Which part?” Peter asked, admittedly having trouble remembering what he had said two minutes ago.

“That you don’t think I would hurt you.”

“Oh, that. Why wouldn’t I mean it?” Peter frowned. “You aren’t planning on killing me, are you?”

“No. I’ve already stopped like four people from killing you this _month.”_ Wade said, then continued over Peter looking at him with a lot of alarm and confusion. “I just still thought you thought I was dangerous.”

“You aren’t to me. And drunk me can’t handle the fact that four people have tried to kill me this month so bring it up with sober me tomorrow.”

“I usually just tell mostly-sober Tony.”

“You _what?”_

“Tell me more about how I’m not a psychopath.” Wade requested, hugging Peter tighter.

Peter blinked at him in shock for a moment, then sighed. “You’re not a psychopath and I’m fully aware you don’t want to kill me.”

Wade grinned. “Anything else?”

Peter frowned, his stupid brain being stupidly slow. “I like your hoodie?”

“That works.” Wade declared, sighing in content and messing with the strings of the hoodie. “I’m hungry. Wanna go get food?”

“There’s probably food here.”

“But I want burgers.”

Burgers did sound pretty good. “Fine. You’re paying.”

“Hell yeah I am. I would be _such_ a good sugar daddy for you.”

“ _No.”_ Nat yelled from halfway across the room, shooting Wade a death glare before returning to her conversation.

“Is she a fucking ninja or something? Jesus.” Wade shuddered, then stood up. “Let’s blow this joint.”

Peter stood with him and waved good-bye to anyone who saw him leave, and then they were out. They walked out into the night, Peter suddenly more grateful for the hoodie.

After a minute, the silence bored him. “So, what would you being a sugar daddy entail?”

Wade spent a moment in shock that Peter had even asked the question. “How long am I allowed to talk about this?”

“You have til midnight.”

“Deal.” Wade agreed, then promptly described being the world’s best sugar daddy for the next two burgers, three shakes, and two hours of texting before Peter finally fell asleep.

He didn’t even mind the fact that he got an essay in the mail two days later.


	6. Prompt 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “great. perfect. nice. fuck this.” spideypool!!

Peter was more exhausted than he had been in _weeks._ He had been so good about sleep lately–he had even made a _schedule_ to keep himself from having another falling-asleep-during-an-acid-lab incident–but this week had decided to be a serious dick to him.

So he found it perfectly understandable to skip his last class of the day (which was advanced mechanical engineering, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t catch up later) in favor of going home and napping. Because he had almost used his phone as a coffee stirrer an hour ago, and that seemed to make it clear the coffee wouldn’t really cover only having six hours of sleep in the past two nights _combined._

Peter yawned for about the millionth time that day and scrubbed a hand over his face as he walked up to his apartment door. He started to lazily pat at his pockets for his keys with his other hand–and came up empty.

He frowned and patted himself down again. No jingle. No pointy key-ends. Frowning harder, he dropped his backpack and started to paw through it, even though he rarely kept his keys anywhere but his pockets (they’d been stolen from his backpack once and he still wasn’t over it). Unsurprisingly and unfortunately, he came up with nothing.

Peter briefly felt the urge to cry. All he wanted was a _nap._ He thought back through his day. He didn’t take them out when he was in the coffee shop–he didn’t even sit down. From what he could recall, he didn’t take them out in class either (because why would he?). Which left him with one, horribly stupid option–they were still sitting on his kitchen counter.

Inside his apartment. Because he was an _idiot._

 _“_ **Great. Perfect. Nice _. Fuck this.”_**  he snapped at the door.

Despite being a functional adult who could deal with this problem in a rational way, Peter was _very tired._ So he did a rather petty thing and kicked his door, hard. 

Crying was seeming like an increasingly appealing option. Peter’s landlord already didn’t like him. He didn’t need to give him another reason to think he was a bad tenant (which, to be fair, he was, because with his superhero agenda–and his superhero friends–his apartment had been through a lot) by saying he’d lost his keys…again.

Peter sighed and sat down, leaning against his door and throwing his backpack next to him. He honestly didn’t think he had the energy to suit up and climb up to his window. He wasn’t even sure he would be able to _find_ his window.

But he still needed to get in his apartment. Maybe he could magically learn how to pick locks without any effort. Or he could see if any of his neighbors would pick his lock for him–

_Wait. I know someone who can pick locks._

Peter was both suddenly grateful and suddenly dreading what he knew he had to do. He sighed _very hard_ and pulled out his phone and for the first time EVER dialed a number he never thought he would need to.

After two rings, he got an answer.

“Deadpool speaking.” Wade’s voice growled at him.

“Wade? It’s–Spider-man.” Peter awkwardly finished, almost just saying ‘Peter’.

The change in Wade’s tone was _instant._ “Yo, Spidey!” he screeched.

Peter winced and immediately regretted his decision. “Hi, Wade. I need a favor.”

“…Is it a murder-y favor? Because I’ve been trying not to do that so much and–”

“It’s not a job, Wade. I’m locked out of my apartment and I need you to pick my lock.”

There was a pause, and Peter _swears_ he heard a snicker. “Did you web your keys to the wall or something?” Wade joked, then started to poorly cover up a laugh.

“I’m hanging up.” Peter snapped, and started to.

“Wait, wait!” Wade shouted, and Peter didn’t hang up. “I’ll help you, Spidey. Can you text me the address?”

“Yeah. Please show up before I have to sleep in my hallway.” Peter requested, then hung up. He typed out his address and sent it to Wade, who responded with a thumbs-up emoji, a winking-tongue-face emoji that Peter never understood, and informed him he’d be there in fifteen minutes.

Peter sighed and pulled out his Spider-man mask from his backpack. He really didn’t _want_ to put it on, but Wade didn’t know his identity and Peter didn’t really think trusting him with it was a good idea.

Then again, he had just given him his address. That was almost _worse,_ in a way. Wade was unarguably the most unstable man he knew, and he was coming over to _pick Peter’s lock for him._

Peter briefly wondered if this was how he was destined to die. Not by some super-villain, but by letting a crazy person know his address. 

_I’m literally letting an axe-murderer into my house. Oh my god, this is how I die._

Peter was still busy imaging scenarios of Wade brutally murdering him when Wade showed up and raised an eyebrow at Peter’s sad scene. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, which was surprising, though he still had both his mask and gloves on.

“Spidey?” he asked, then it clicked why Wade was looking at him funny.

Peter had forgotten to ever put his mask on.

“Uh, yeah. Hi, Wade.”

Wade suddenly slapped a hand over his eyes. “You forgot your mask.”

Peter sighed. “I guess I did. But I also gave you my address, so I figured if you were gonna murder me I couldn’t stop you.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I’m tired. Please break into my apartment so I can sleep.” Peter said, gesturing at the door handle by his head.

Wade chuckled and walked over. He knelt down next to Peter and started to work on the lock with a bunch of tools that looked like torture devices. “So, not that I’m complaining, but why did you call me for this? You’ve never even used my number before.”

“Long story short, my landlord hates me already and everyone else would never let me live down leaving my keys in my apartment and not realizing it until _now.”_

 _“_ That’s fair.” Wade shrugged, then the door made a _click_ and Wade turned the handle, and to Peter’s sleepy amazement, it _opened. “_ Ta-da. All better.”

Peter gaped at how _fast_ Wade had done that. After a second of chuckling at him, Wade offered him a hand. Peter took it and was heaved to his feet. He grabbed his backpack and entered, expecting Wade to follow.

But he didn’t. Wade stayed in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his feet.

Peter turned back and looked at him. He looked like a lost puppy. Well, a lost puppy who was trying to see as much as he possibly could from a doorway. Peter sighed. “Just come in.”

Wade giggled and ran in, immediately going _everywhere. “I’m in Spider-man’s apartment!”_

Peter slowly followed him, eventually ended up in his bedroom, where Wade was fiddling with things on his desk. “Don’t break anything.” he ordered, then promptly collapsed onto his bed face-down.

After a moment, he felt a weight on the other side of the bed. “Aw, is Spidey sleepy?” Wade cooed.

“Fuck off.” Peter snapped, and Wade laughed.

“That’s fair. I like your apartment, by the way. Tasteful.”

Peter snorted. “Does it accurately show off my college student budget?”

“Impeccably.” Wade said, flopping down on the bed next to him. “Dude, how old is this mattress?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it witnessed JFK’s murder, to be honest.”

Wade laughed, then they fell into silence. Peter was honestly half-asleep before Wade broke the silence again, and even then he didn’t really wake up. “Should I go?”

“Hmm?” Peter asked, turning to look at him.

“Should I leave? You seem about two seconds away from hibernation.”

Peter shrugged. “Probably. I’m gonna sleep for about fifty hours now.”

Wade smiled at him and sat up. “That’s fair. See you on your next patrol?”

“Considering you know where I live, I don’t think I can stop you from showing up to all of them.”

“Probably not. Sleep well, Spidey.”

Peter just hummed an answer and snuggled deeper into his pillow, listening to Wade’s footsteps get fainter–then get louder again.

Wade poked his head back into Peter’s room. “For the record, I like your face.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Go home, Wade.”

“It’s a nice face. Excellent face. That hair is killer. Do you condition?”

“ _Wade.”_

 _“_ Right, right. I’m going. Call me if you need a number for an actual locksmith, baby boy.” Wade chuckled, then left for real.

Peter threw his cover onto himself, rolled over into the spot Wade had made surprisingly warm in his short time there, and slept better than he had in what felt like _years._


	7. Prompt 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "zero fucks given. next please.”

Tony was in a _mood_ today, from what Peter could tell. Well, he had a lot of _moods_ , actually. Most of them were good, like when he gets in a building mood or an all-of-my-enemies-are-going-to-regret-being-born mood. 

This one, however, was not a good mood. This was his I-disapprove-of-your-relationship mood, and Peter was just waiting for him to snap and start complaining about Wade again. He’d already done it seven times since they’d started dating _two weeks ago._

As if on cue, Tony suddenly dropped what he was working on and swiveled to face Peter. “Why Wilson?”

Peter groaned, but didn’t look up. “Can we not do this again? I was enjoying not talking about it.”

“No, because I still don’t like him.”

“That’s because you’re a child and you refuse to see my point of view.” Peter pointed out, crossing his arms.

Tony glared at him, and it felt like being glared at by a five-year-old. “I don’t like him. He’s not good for you.”

“How would you know? You’re not dating him.”

“I’ve worked with him before. On multiple occasions. It’s not hard to learn how his weird mind works.”

“It is, actually, you’ve just never tried.”

Tony rolled his eyes at him, which was stupid. If anyone was going to do some eye-rolling, it was going to be Peter. “There’s still so many reasons to _not_ date him.”

“Like what?” Peter asked, officially abandoning the web-shooter he was trying to fix. “Please, give me a list of reasons to not date my boyfriend.”

“One,” Tony started, and Peter rolled his eyes because _of course Tony had a real list, “_ he murders people for a living. For money.”

“First off, that’s super hypocritical. Second, we have an arrangement for that.”

“I know your morals, kid. It won’t work forever.”

Peter resisted explaining that Wade only did jobs related to protection or stealing-without-killing anymore, deciding it could be used to crush his argument later. “Right. Sure.”

“Two,” Tony continued, “the guy gives zero fucks about _killing people,_ which is _not_ hypocritical for me to say because I actually care.”

Peter wondered how obvious it was that he didn’t care about this entire conversation. Apparently, not obvious enough. “Yep. **Zero fucks given. Next?”**

Tony glared at him. “Are you even listening?”

“God, no. It’s been the same argument for the last four arguments.”

“Well until you listen, you’re gonna keep getting them.”

Peter looked up to the ceiling–or JARVIS, whichever could provide more guidance–and sighed. “Look, Tony, I get that you care. And I get that you think this is a bad idea,” he added quickly when Tony opened his stupid mouth, “but really, he makes me happy, and he’s not going to hurt me. So please, for the love of god, _shut up_ and let’s have a pleasant afternoon of fixing shit like we normally do. Because Wade’s not going anywhere, and I’m assuming you aren’t either. So get over it.”

Tony just stared at him. After making Peter wait a stupidly long time for a response, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate him.”

“I know. But I don’t.”

“You should.”

“But I don’t.”

“If he hurts you, I’m gonna kill him.” Tony said, looking Peter in the eye.

“I know. But I doubt he will.”

Tony sighed again. “Just so you know, I’m never gonna approve of this. I’ll just quietly disapprove.”

Peter smiled. “That works. Oh, and stop sending him vague death threats.”

Tony mocked surprise. “You’ve been getting death threats?”

Peter raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Stop it.”

“Fine. But some of those were funny.”

Peter shoved him. “You half-convinced Wade someone was trying to kill me, you ass. He wouldn’t let me do anything alone for like three days.”

Tony frowned. “Well that was the complete _opposite_ of the desired effect.”

“Yeah, yeah. Will you stop meddling now?”

“No.” Tony instantly replied, earning a punch to the arm. “But I will slightly lessen my efforts.”

Peter knew that was as good as it was going to get. “Fine. Now hand me that screwdriver and play some bad old people music.”

Tony grinned at him, and things felt slightly more okay. “JARVIS, play my anti-Peter playlist.


End file.
